Sunday, March 5, 2017

5. STRING

There sits, on a stand in my living room, a sweet old parlor
guitar. Her body is slender and petite, with a lustrous patina and a belly full
of stories to tell. Scratched into the back are these words:

Thenton A. Chambers

From: T.M. Dillingham

1880

It is light as a whisper, but has a pretty rich sound
nonetheless. I had the inside braced so it would hold its tune -- invested a good
bit into this dandy little instrument. But there it sits, in the living room,
where only short term visitors sit, their hands on their knees as they balance
on the outside edge of the couch.

The poor neglected creature has a broken
string, and since the strings I most often use are steel strings, and this one
is made for nylon ones, I have not replaced it.It’s been months, even years, sitting there unused. I feel a twinge of
sorrowful regret when I see it, tapping that spot in my brain where I am
supposed to remember stuff, reminding myself to go buy new strings. There are
songs tucked into that guitar that remain unsung, and unwritten, because it has
only 5 strings.

My daughter, Sarah, has gifted hands. Since she was small,
pretty much everything they touched became art. Her piano teacher told me when
she was nine years old that she could no longer teach her anything new, that I
would probably need to take her to the U of U so she could progress. Her hands
were made for pianos and pencils and paintbrushes. When there is a paintbrush
in her hands, Sarah sees the world differently. She sees it through the eyes of
the poet. And yet, because her daily tasks require her hands to change diapers
and wash dishes and cook meals… and then examine little children and swab
throats and stitch up wounds…because her hands are busy with these tasks, her
paints have dried up. Her brushes gather dust, waiting for her to return.

Brene Brown wrote:

“I used to think you were either creative or you weren’t.
Now I know we either use our creativity or we don’t. When we don’t use it it
isn’t benign, our creativity doesn’t just dissipate, it’s malignant and it
turns into rage or grief.”

My Sarah needs her paints. Or her piano. Or some chorus in
which to sing her songs.

And I need to stop ditzing around and get myself a new set
of strings for this old parlor guitar.

3 comments:

Yes I do! It's a lot more challenging for me to make it happen. But, there is hope. I did just sit down at the piano a few days ago and plunk out John Williams' Olympic Theme. Luckily, it was in the key of C - haha! Now, on to the paints. Where do I find the time? Or better yet, the energy and motivation?! Till then, Great Artist lessons at the elementary school and designing album covers will have to do. Love you, Mom.